Captured
by Gtimes3
Summary: The creature let out a sound like nails running down a chalk board, which almost made the doctor reach up and cover his ears. He settled for merely flinching; trying not to insult the beast in front of him. The doctor has a new companion! R & R !
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay, well, hahahaa, this was fun to write ;) I've never written a Doctor Who fanfic before...it was fun bashing out random letters in order to make up alien names though :P Hahaaa :P It takes place after he leaves Donna okay? :D**_

_**Disclaimer: Always forget these: NOT MINE NOT MINE NOT MINE MWHAHAAA**_

**_Chapter Song: My own prison - Creed_**

_**Chapter 1: The Red**_

It was dark, dank, and dreary in the cell. His suit was ripped and bloody in places; and the creatures had even managed to rip out a fair amount of his hair – which left his scalp stinging from the pain.

Disgusting, rotting smells mingled in the stale air, assaulting his nose whenever he needed to take in air. He had tried pinching his nose and breathing through his mouth in order to rid himself of the stench, however, he had almost gagged at the taste of the air on his tongue, and had since kept his mouth shut, and grimaced as he let the reek overcome him.

There was a gabble of noise coming from the other end of the corridor – two Aslavilaiens were arguing about how they managed to get caught, and put into a place like this. The attitude of the second alien, in particular, reminded him of Donna. He had picked up, from their conversation, that this alien's name was Malaquitia; who spoke in short, harsh sentences – the alien was full of spite, fury, and unmatched by it's companion in attitude.

He turned back towards the wall of his cell. He sat by the barred door, with his back to the noise of the gabbling aliens. The wall across from him was made of bricks; just like those on earth, and had been painted with some sort of black slime, by the looks of it. The slime, he had discovered earlier, numbed your hands at a touch of it – upsetting his plans of escaping marginally.

There was a dripping coming from the back of the cell too; if he were to lay on the grass like bed that had been 'made' for prisoners, he would have slime, which was dripping from the ceiling, dripping all over him. He supposed that the dumber prisoners here would lay on the 'bed' and would manage to numb themselves completely. If the worst came to the worst, of course, he could manage to shut himself up when tortured, by merely coating his jaw with slime. Although this would probably lead to a quick death at the hands of his captors. Of course, numbing any part of his body would help against torture – but then he would not be able to relax his muscles, and take less of the torturous impact; this could possibly damage him eternally. That would defiantly not be a good thing.

Of course, he didn't know yet whether they even wanted to torture him. He might not even have any information they desired. In truth, he wasn't sure if they even knew who he was, let alone that he was a Time Lord. Maybe if he stayed quiet, they would let him out on the basis of being harmless.

He doubted it.

It was at that moment of doubt, that he heard a loud clanging sound coming from the side of the corridor that he was facing. He recognised it; it was the door through which he had been dragged several hours ago – when he had been captured.

It took him only a moment to realise that the chatter of the Aslavilaiens had ceased at the noise. This did not surprise him though; when he had been dragged along, they had been silent too.

He pulled himself up from the dirty floor; wondering if maybe they had actually decided to let him out; or the fellow aliens that graced the cell. Or if they had managed to catch someone else who wasn't supposed to be on the dwarf planet. He hoped not; he didn't think he'd wish this fate on anyone. Apart from maybe the Darleks. Or the person who invented Rap music.

A low mumbling could be heard from the person, or should he say, alien, that entered the corridor; heavy steps also fell upon the floor; causing a loud crunching sound to echo around the walls; as the alien's claws hit the floor. In some ways he felt sorry for this particular species; they would probably a lot more comfortable if they wore shoes. Or clothes for that matter.

This species was the Malterziganons. They were creatures which resembled humans a little. However, they had small needle like hairs covering their bodies; and did not possess sexual organs. This had always interested the doctor; he did not understand how a species could survive this way. The males of the species randomly gave birth at unset intervals. All he knew was that the children of these creatures could only be born when the male was happy, and in a good environment to host a child. The child would be born in an egg of slime, and could hatch as soon as it had grown at least one meter in diameter. All of these children had the intelligence of a regular human being; they grew only smarter over time.

As the aliens advanced down the corridor, the lights lit one after another – this was the first species to invent electricity of course; because of their immense brain power. And he could soon hear the sound of something, suspiciously like a body, sliding along the floor.

As the aliens got closer to him, more scents were drawn to his nose. One was that of the Malterziganon; it was a coppery smell; almost smelling how a penny would taste. The other was one which would be recognisable to anyone. It was the smell of blood. And quite a large amount of it.

A few moments later, the doctor finally saw what was coming. He was standing a little back from the bars, and was leaning towards the corridor; trying to see who, or what, was bleeding so profusely.

The Malterziganon was in site first; it's back was to him; it's back was bent with the strain of pulling the body behind him. And what a body it was. It looked human; it was on it's stomach, and pale flesh showed from beneath a curtain of long, dirty hair – which was presumably brown.

There were many rips in the body's clothes, showing cuts, bruises, and underneath all this was presumably flesh. A trail of blood flowed behind the body as it was pulled by the creature. It was also being pulled along by it's feet; which bled as the needle's of hair on the hands of the Malterziganon pierced them. It's hair was dragging along in the dirt. He hated to think how disgusting that hair must have felt.

He watched silently, turning as they passed him, as the creature dragged the body not much further, before opening the cell door next to his, and dragged the body in, before walking back out, licking it's hands to clean them of the blood.

The doctor cringed at the gesture, and unconscientiously moved back as the creature approached his cell again. He watched as the creature moved towards him, and stared him in the eyes. It's own eyes were gigantic, and a deep, dark red. There were no whites to it's eyes; it was almost eerie.

The creature let out a sound like nails running down a chalk board, which almost made the doctor reach up and cover his ears. He settled for merely flinching; trying not to insult the beast in front of him. It was laughing, he knew, it was disgusting.

The creature's lipless mouth curled upwards in what was meant to be a grin, before turning away and walking down the corridor. It continued to laugh all the way.

When the door clanged closed again, the doctor let out the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. His tense muscles relaxed, and he turned his eyes towards the corridor again.

He caught sight of the blood on the floor; a wide trail running all the way down the corridor. He gagged slightly, before leaning as far outside of the bars as possible, and threw up.

By morning the smell of the blood was gone, and he woke up to the gabbling, once again, of the aliens down the corridor. But there was also an unfamiliar sound coming from closer than the aliens. There was a soft groaning coming from the next cell along. Someone was in great pain.

He remembered what he had witnessed last night; and listened, helpless, to the groaning, until it quietened, and eventually ceased.

He stood up then, and turned towards the wall he had been leaning against. His back was numb.

He got as close to the wall as he could, without touching the slime, and called out to the person, or alien, on the other side of the wall. "Are you okay?" He called loudly.

The response he got was some gentle coughing, and then some gagging. He listened to the creature move around a little more. He was about to call again; and try some other alien languages, before he heard a small response. "Does it sound like it?" was the reply.

He almost chuckled at the smart ass reply that he had received. "May I ask why you are here?" He asked the unknown alien.

"Coincidence" the creature replied. From it's voice, he assumed it was a female. She had the same reason for being here as he did, he thought to himself.

"May I ask what you are?" He said; laughing to himself as he thought of how rude it sounded. The sort of thing you should never ask an alien. However, it was a completely different situation; he couldn't see the person to whom he was speaking.

He heard the creature sigh gently, then groan as it's movement pained itself. It's reply surprised him.

"A traveller," she replied. "I cannot tell you more, you might be…helping them." She said 'them' in such a disgusting way that he knew he was talking about her captors. Obviously they were not on the best of terms. It seemed, last night that she was being tortured for information. Seeing as she was still alive; he presumed that they had not yet got any information out of her.

"Then may I ask you what information they want from you?" He asked; this might at least give him an insight to why he was here. "So I know what I might be up against?"

She thought about this for some time. He was unsure if she was going to answer; before she spoke up again. "They want to know where the key to my ship is." She replied, "Amongst other things which I shall never tell them."

A ship, he thought, what sort of ship, he wondered. He hoped to himself that the Tardis wasn't the sort of ship they'd like to get their grubby hands on. He didn't really fancy being tortured. He hadn't exactly figured out how he was going to get away from here yet. He also started to wonder about her ship; it must be something pretty special if they were torturing her for the key. He wondered what sort of a ship she had.

He was still pondering when he heard the doors clang open again. The gabbling from the other end of the hall silenced again. He watched quietly, turning round to see, as another Malterziganon trudged down the corridor; bypassing him, and heading straight to the cell next door to him.

"Where is the key?" the alien asked in a gritty voice.

"Gallifrey" the woman's voice replied.

The doctor listened as the Malterziganon growled angrily, heard the squelching and the crunching as a body hit the slime at the back of the cell, and watched as the Malterziganon slunk back out of the corridor.

It took a few more moments to realise something. The girl had said Gallifrey. The name of his home planet. But why? Was it just some excuse used to annoy the monsters who were keeping her captive. Was she teasing them? He needed to know.

He chose to wait until the Malterziganon had left the corridor, and then a few moments after, before he started his questioning. It also allowed him to set straight which questions he intended to ask the woman.

"You must be quite old; or quite educated to know of Gallifrey", he told her, speaking through the wall.

He had to wait a few moments for an answer; the woman was groaning again; he heard a sickening sound of flesh being dragged along tiles; just like last night. He gagged quietly, but he did not throw up again.

Finally she replied, "Maybe I'm both", was her reply. With such short replies, he wondered whether he should indeed question her further. His curious instinct, however, got the better of him, and he proceeded in the 'grilling' of his new acquaintance.

"I don't suppose you'd tell me how old?" He asked.

"I'm not sure about you," came her reply, "But on my planet it was always rude to ask a lady her age." He'd known it was a long shot. But at least she had confirmed that she was a woman.

"I don't suppose you'd tell me anything else about this planet of yours?" He started questioning again. This time there was no groaning, but she still took a while to answer the question. He guessed that she must be thinking over her answer a lot.

"It wouldn't do you much good to know," she finally stuttered out, "it's been gone for a long while".

"Since the war?" he said softly, more so to himself; a rhetorical question, meant as a common musing over whether she really was from…there.

She would not speak after he had uttered this. He had no doubt in his mind that she had heard; and that was why she was keeping quiet. He tried to talk to her a little more; asking her questions. She was unresponsive though; and he wondered whether it was because she was ignoring him, or because she had fallen asleep. He knew, from one painful experience, that torture was very tiring to have to withstand. If he was honest with himself; he wanted to help her. Hearing the pain in her voice; and her awful groaning from the next cell pulled at his heartstrings. Those from both of his hearts. He wondered, sometimes, whether it was a curse or a blessing to have two hearts; maybe he had double the pain because he had double the organ; but maybe it was worth it for the extra mortality he was offered as a prize for dealing with such pain. It was an unanswerable, paradoxical question.

A few hours of silence from the woman, and non-stop gabbling from the other aliens inhabiting the cell later, another Malterziganon came to get her. It walked past the Doctor's cell, the skin around it's mouth curled up over it's teeth in a grin; and grabbed her from the inside of her cell. He could hear her moans of pain as the creature's spikes pierced her delicate flesh once again.

They walked past his cell again, to get to the door at the end of the corridor, and he saw her face for the first time.

She was being dragged by her feet again; the same scars from yesterday were reopening and dripping blood down her leg. What was left of her clothes were soaking the red liquid up, turning the material a nasty shade of crimson, before fading into a darker, deeper red as it dried quickly. She was wearing tattered trousers, and a large, blood soaked jumper. She was being dragged, this time, on her back, and her head hit every bump they went over, causing her to wince in pain, and cry out softly. Her hair was being dragged behind her again, taking up all the dirt from the disgusting floor; including blood that she herself had spilled again yesterday.

He took most time, though, examining her face. Her cheeks, under numerous bruises and scars, were flushed from pain. She was biting her lip in fear, and her eyes were closed. Her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks every time she hit a bump, and tears were trailing down her dirty face from the pain. As she passed his cell, she opened her eyes for a second; seeing him for the first time, as he stared down at her sadly. His hands were in his pockets, as he tried to restrain the yell that came to his throat. He swallowed audibly as he saw her. Her sad eyes pierced his soul, and he wanted nothing more, in that small moment, than to reach out and save her. But he could not; not if he planned to survive. Trying to save her now would probably get them both killed.

For the rest of the day, the Doctor could not erase the image of her face, eyes opened, sometimes closed, tears spilling down her dirty, bruised, cheeks. When he closed her eyes, she was there, when he opened them, he saw her blood on the floor, and he was reminded of her once again. After many agonising hours, he watched her unconscious body being dragged back by a malicious looking Malterziganon, screeching with laughter as the other one had been.

The Doctor watched until the woman disappeared, her face hidden again by her hair; being dragged on her stomach once again, as with the night before. His hearts reached out to her where his hands could not. When the Malterziganon had disappeared, and the echoes of the door closing had stopped ringing around the corridor of cells, and he had grown tremendously angry at the silence from the cell next to him; he sat down, buried his head in his hands; and for the first time in a while: he cried.

Even the Aslavilaiens were silent that night.

It was three days; or what the Doctor assumed were days, later when the woman next spoke to him. He was truly surprised. Since the night that he had cried, he had heard her groans echoing around the corridor many times; but he had said nothing. He had kept his silence; offering her what he could; a cease to his burning questions. It was small, but he had hoped it had been a comfort to her.

It was a morning; and he knew, by routine, that the aliens would not come for her for a good few hours.

_**YOU LIKES? SHALL I CARRY ON? REVIEWWWWWW...3 x x x x**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**SHORT CHAPPIE :D**_

_**But an update none the less**_

_**Chapter song: I'm waiting - All American Rejects**_

_**Chapter 2: Sonic**_

It was three days; or what the Doctor assumed were days, later when the woman next spoke to him. He was truly surprised. Since the night that he had cried, he had heard her groans echoing around the corridor many times; but he had said nothing. He had kept his silence; offering her what he could; a cease to his burning questions. It was small, but he had hoped it had been a comfort to her.

It was a morning; and he knew, by routine, that the aliens would not come for her for a good few hours. As he had been doing for the last few days of silence – almost silence, the babbling two were still hard at it, he had been thinking of plans to escape the place. So far they had all involved his sonic screwdriver; which was currently in possession of his captors. 'How troublesome', he had been thinking to himself, when a weak voice had broken through his thoughts:

"A blue box", the voice had said.

"What?" he replied; immediately thinking of the Tardis.

"Your ship", the voice continued; "it is a blue box, is it not?" she asked. How could she know? Was his first thought, and also his first question to her; stumbling over his words in order to get them out as quickly as possible.

"They took me to it", she told him simply; "and they demanded that I opened it. Not that I could; or would, if I could." Suddenly he understood. She had begun to trust him; she had realised that he was also a prisoner – not someone who was working for her enemies! Yes! He internally punched the air, moving forwards quickly, to be as near to the wall, and her, as possibly – without getting his hands in the slime of course.

He was about to open his mouth, and start shooting off questions about her meeting with the Tardis, before he suddenly heard a very familiar sound coming from the next cell. His mouth dropped open.

"This screwdriver; it's sonic," she stated simply. Then she laughed bitterly, "Who'd have thought it, a sonic screwdriver, genius! They had no idea of what it could do of course…"

"You have it?!" He rushed to talk, "how? I mean, how did you get hold of it?"

She did not reply immediately. But he heard the buzzing of the screwdriver, and grew impatient as she fiddled with the equipment.

"A trifling thing," she told him. "I laughed at them, not realising what it was really. I thought that they were joking…a screwdriver," she laughed again, "high tech alien technology. Sure. They gave it to me though, thinking it was not needed; as I thought it was – a piece of junk." He heard her sigh then, and then a small intake of breath as she disturbed her wounds again.

"It was last night that I realised it was, um, important; when I got back. I was fiddling around with it when the alien left. And, well, I found it to be more, well, interesting than I had originally."

She stopped talking then. He heard more buzzing coming from the cell next door. He suddenly realised; he had a great desire to have his screwdriver back. He could get them out of he had it back. They could break through the doors of the cells, and then they could take out any guard posted outside of here. He was also sure that she knew what the outside looked like; having been there for torture sessions; and of course; she would know where they had moved his Tardis to. It was perfect.

Then he heard her groans of pain, and realised, it was definitely not perfect. He did not even know if she could walk yet.

Then he heard it; the rattle of metal rolling along the floor; and looked outside of his cell to see that his sonic screwdriver was heading towards him; he reached out and grabbed it through the bars. Suddenly relishing in it's cold, shiny exterior; pulling it back into his pocket. "Thank you", he told the woman softly.

"Three floors up from here you will find your ship", she told him, "there were two guards yesterday, that's all I can tell you though. I hope you find your way out of here."

"Won't you come?" He asked her.

"I cannot walk", she told him, "and my ship is here. I cannot bear to leave her."

"I'll help you", he insisted, now needing to get her out of this place; this awful place where she had been locked up and tortured. "We can return once you are in…better health, and reclaim your ship! We can do it; please come." He was prepared to beg now; she had given him back his freedom by giving him his sonic screwdriver – he could definitely break out now; all he needed was her to go with him.

"If I fall behind; you will leave me behind." She told him defiantly, "at least that way I can still be a distraction."

"Fine," he replied, "but I won't let you fall behind. He was determined. He was spured on even more by her bitter laugh, echoing around the corridor. And then more so, when he once again heard the clanging of the door at the end of the corridor. Her laughter had ceased; and his smile had been wiped off his face. He watched as they dragged her from her cell, down the corridor, and out of the door.

Then he sat back, and waited for her return.

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